


at noon we prayed

by Kozakura_dono



Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, Blood, Cartel, Cocaine, Foul Language, Gangs, Money, ONCE AGAIN AU, Revenge, Ritualistic Murder, This is an abomination, Very AU, Violence, bad things happen to Chad, because I like to torture him, cursing, don't read this if you have a soul, everyone is a psychopath, he is not nice, kids killing kids, or sweet, psychopaths, there are no heroes, triggers everywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-29 19:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6390253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kozakura_dono/pseuds/Kozakura_dono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One boy's unexpected appearance made all the difference in Sado Yasutora's life.  As a result, Yasutora took his childhood inclinations to the logical, if extreme, conclusion, and Abuelo wasn't there to help him that fateful day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sticky stuff came pouring out in buckets. He was holey like that fancy cheese Mama used to buy when they had the money, little bits of himself strewn about the alley. There were little dogs, skinny little things, the perfect kind who could be turned into pets instead of strays if they were fed enough. Eating his fingers. His earlobes. The very tip of his nose and his lips.

Yesterday, he’d smacked José around until his big brother Juan with the knives came to pick him up and then he’d wrestled Juan down and shoved his stupid little knives right across the back of legs. Juan screamed and Yasu laughed and then he stomped José into the ground until he stopped moving.

Juan and José’s papa had found out. No money for a hospital for the boys, and José was practically dead already. Not Yasu’s fault José’d been a weak little bitch. Not Yasu’s fault that his big brother had to come with a knife and make things serious. ‘Survival of the strong.’ Didn’t they learn that in school?

That familiar smell of blood kept Yasu from smelling the garbage he was on top of, which he considered lucky because he was face down. He couldn’t feel anything anymore and that lucky too. He was a gangster already, maybe a killer too if José had decided to do something worthwhile for once and die. Gangsters didn’t cry. 

He tried to smile but Yasu had no lips. On the inside, he seethed with rage. He’d get José and Juan’s papa back for this. He knew that there was another brother, older, and three daughters, one younger than him and the other two almost grown-up. Well, they’d never make it to womanhood. Yasu would make sure of that.

The beating he’d given the little pussies was going to look like comfort when he was finished with that family. Girls were weird about their faces, weren’t they? How would José’s dad feel when none of little girls had faces left to smile with? Hair left to braid? Skin left to protect?

How would José’s daddy feel when he got to watch Yasu tear apart his children and feed them to their own chickens? How would he feel when Yasu left him alive to rot away in the field with the birds, what was left of all of his kids around him in bite-size, convenient pieces for the vultures?

A toothless, bloody grin blossomed in the dark amidst a stench of rot and decay. War was afoot. Yasu knew who owed him. Soon, so would everyone.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes when boys started crying, Yasu got really, really annoyed.  Yasu didn’t have lips anymore, and had he cried when he was held down by grown men while they ripped his face off with rusty butcher’s knives?  No, because Yasu wasn’t a little pussy.“If you cry too loud, your sister will hear,” he whispered, pressing jagged nails into the boy’s soft, vulnerable throat.  The words didn’t sound right, and the normal harshness wasn’t there because Yasu had no teeth to snarl with, no lips to help shape the words with.  Wide, lightish eyes stared up at him, wide with terror and leaking girly tears before they screwed shut, ever defiant.  Yasu frowned.

“If you cry too loud, your sister will hear,” he whispered, pressing jagged nails into the boy’s soft, vulnerable throat.  The words didn’t sound right, and the normal harshness wasn’t there because Yasu had no teeth to snarl with, no lips to help shape the words with.  Wide, lightish eyes stared up at him, wide with terror and leaking girly tears before they screwed shut, ever defiant.  Yasu frowned.

Yasu had taken his beating like a man.  Yasu had looked at the grown men, each and every one of them taking turns.  He knew who owed him.  Yasu wasn’t a damn pussy like Juan even though he was three years younger.

“José looked just like you.”  Like magic, misty eyes snapped open, practically burning with emotion.  Ah.  That hatred was something Yasu could understand, even respect.

“Don’t you ever talk about my brother-”

“Shut up.”  Juan screamed and kept screaming when Yasu moved his nails from a more fatal spot to somewhere he could tear without killing Juan right away, just between the collar bones.  Blood pooled in the hollow of his throat as the bigger boy thrashed helplessly.  Little football fairy, thinking he was so special.  Couldn’t do shit with those skinny legs of his once Yasu’d made his mark, could he?

“No escape for you, puto.  Just like,” he bent down and whispered, words like salt in a wound, “ _José_.”

Yasu took a long time with Juan.  It felt like a new beginning.

           


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasu escalates some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bad one.

Yasu hoped he’d never have to kill girls again. They squealed so loudly, like pretty, fresh pigs up for the slaughter. Like kittens being tortured in an alley, puppies being kicked down flights of steps and covered in gasoline and lit on fire.

Their skin, soft from lack of roughhousing and time spent outdoors, yielded too easily to a sharp edge. Church dresses, meant for best occasions only, had to be worked around to not ruin their splendor. Clothing wasn’t meant to be ripped up and stained, and making girls strip and change into something uglier was awkward and uncomfortable. 

Yasu surveyed the leftovers. Eyes all looked the same when they were out of their safe spaces. No matter how pretty they looked with skin and bone and muscle around them, they were ugly, hideous even, on their own, strangely firm yet soft at the same time, like jelly but not. 

Yasu wondered what he would look like when he died. When he’d cleaned up José, he’d been so light, and the bones weren’t as hard and white like the long-dead remains of road kill some of the kids liked to play with sometimes. How long would it take nature to take off Yasu’s skin? Would he ever really wither? 

He couldn’t clean up the girls the right way, so instead, he drenched them in water until their blood completely dripped away, leaving behind unnaturally pale, sickly skin. He retrieved the dresses from their room and haltingly redressed the corpses. Yasu consoled himself. At least they weren’t alive anymore. He’d never wanted to humiliate them; they were just necessary sacrifices for a bigger goal.

There. He finished slipping over the oldest sister’s dress, a very pretty but simple high-backed, long-sleeved white thing with little decoration. Quite somber for a church dress.

They were a matching set, he realized, as he set about fixing their hair. The only thing he knew how to do was braid, so that was what he did, twisting sleek, shiny strands and wringing out the remnants of blood his impromptu washing hadn’t fully cleaned. He found ribbon in a drawer, adding bows and rainbow strands to the braids last minute. 

He laid the girls in their beds, hauling them carefully as to not disturb their garb. Yasu was satisfied. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was uncomfortable to write, but it wanted to be written.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things fall apart.

Something felt like it was burrowing its way into Yasu’s guts. This was all wrong. This was not how it was supposed to be.

He’d planned this, for days, while his belly ached and he ate what he could find without being seen, while his teeth came back along with his lips and nose and ears. Days, with hunger to focus his mind. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

There was supposed to be an order. Juan, the daughters, then his firstborn son, and then José’s daddy would realize that it was Yasu who did it, and then he would suffer, slowly, stewing in his own shit and boiling under the sun in a field somewhere.

He wasn’t supposed to be dead like this, his oldest son wasn’t supposed to go out and RUIN EVERYTHING AND GET THEM BOTH KILLED.

Fucking gangs stealing his kills. He hissed as he bit down, hard, into a pudgy man’s fleshy belly, hard enough to make his insides start spilling out, hard enough a yellow, ugly jelly got stuck in Yasu’s brand new teeth.

Yasu’s hands were in the fat man’s throat before he could scream. Yasu was too angry to play for the long-term right now, but gang members were like roaches, if there’s one, there’s a thousand. Yasu eyed the splatters of ink on the skin and frowned. He didn’t know what any of it meant.

He stayed with the cooling remains for awhile, though, for a few reasons. He wanted to memorize the tattoos so he could find the rest of the punk ass bitches who’d taken his kills away. He was also starving, and the smell of fresh blood was bound to draw some type of animal or another. Yasu sat until the dead of night when he accomplished both of his goals.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People die, but that's not saying much, is it?

When it came down to it, Yasu liked to break things and fix them up they way he liked them. The way _he_ liked them. That was important.  
  
“Fuckin’ putos,” he grunted as he ducked clumsily, rolling into a foot. White hot pain laced his back as he went flying back toward a lumbering asshole with tattoos covering his arms. He heard ugly snickers as he struggled to get up. He saw red.  
  
A few minutes later, he was choking on a disgusting mixture of teeth and blood. His own teeth and blood. Yasu was…dazed.  
  
He spat, literally, a salty glob of cherry-red with the odd hard bit here and there onto someone’s shoes. Sparkly lights danced across his vision even while he struggled to keep them open despite the lure to give in to his sticky, heavy eyelids.  
  
“Crazy little fucker, ain’t he?” An agreeing noise. A little bit of pride to make the pain fade away. Damn _straight_ he was a crazy little fucker.  
  
“Can’t be tolerating this type of shit, though.” Yasu growled.  
  
“Mendez.” The talking and murmuring didn’t stop, as though he were some type of animal that could be ignored. Dumbshits hadn’t tied him down or cut his limbs off. Their mistake.  
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, he rolled bit by bit until he was closer to the bigger one’s stinking boots. He held his breath and cringed on the inside. He didn’t know where this man had been. This was going to be the worst thing he’d ever done.  
  
Steeling himself, he snapped at the man’s calf, jagged remains of teeth tearing through cloth and skin with huge difficulty. Life or death. Desperate measures. In the back of his mind, Yasu shivered with something strange, like he was all stuffed up with sweets and milk and warm cotton.  
  
Loud noises rang out and Yasu felt the strangest little hot pinches in his left shoulder and forearm. It wasn’t that bad, not nearly as bad as letting filthy blood defile his mouth, so he hung on until he could get his stronger, complete set of back teeth against that section of bone and forced his jaw shut with an audible crunch.  
  
Teeth are harder than bone, a fact Yasu was thankful for when that nasty snapping noise was accompanied by even shriller screams. Yasu couldn’t move his legs too well by then and his left arm was shot, literally, so he had to make do with an awkward 1-armed scuttle. He thanked God for his strong body.  
  
He made it up with a lot of hurt, but nothing compared to the thought of the disease, the shit, the fucking _cholera_ , typhoid, and tapeworms. His skin crawled. He’d need to slit his wrists after this, just to purge himself of the impurity.   
  
He felt another pinch in his belly but that didn’t matter. The stubbly, thin skin of the man’s throat was too easy to bite through, and it wasn’t long after that that the animalistic terror and pain faded from his beady eyes.  
  
They’d collapsed to the ground then, and Yasu couldn’t move anymore. He hoped he wasn’t dying as the blackness at the edges of his vision overwhelmed him and forced him into unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this isn't how you actually get most, if not all, of these diseases/afflictions, but Yasu doesn't make much distinction.

**Author's Note:**

> It's only going to get worse from here on out, folks. Get out while you can if this isn't your sort of thing. The violence will be gratuitous.


End file.
